


Navigating Recovery

by GoodyearTheShippyCat



Category: Starfighter (Comic), Starfighter Eclipse
Genre: Alien Technology, Aliens, An Adorable Little BAMF, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anglers - Freeform, Angst and Porn, Battle, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Due to Medication, Established Relationship, Ethos is a BAMF, Exhibitionism, Feelings Realization, Feels, First Kiss, Frottage, Grinding, Gun Violence, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Triangles, Lube, M/M, Making Out, Medical Conditions, Medication, Memories, Mildly Dubious Consent, Military Science Fiction, Multi, Oral Sex, Original Alien Species - Freeform, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Discussions, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Triads, Unreliable Narrator, Using Appropriate Amounts of Lube, Voyeurism, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-20 07:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/pseuds/GoodyearTheShippyCat
Summary: TheKeplerhas a new mission: to seek out Angler motherships and destroy them, for the safety of humanity and all other sentient species in the galaxy. That mission turns out to be more dangerous than anticipated, and throws what’s really important into sharp relief for Athos.
Relationships: Abel/Cain (background), Athos & Porthos (Starfighter), Athos/Ethos (Starfighter), Athos/Ethos/Porthos (Starfighter), Deimos/Praxis (background), Ethos/Porthos (Starfighter), Helios/Selene (background), Phobos/Porthos (Starfighter), Valentina/Infinite Badassery (background)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 8
Collections: Starfighter Secret Santa





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [on_the_wing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_wing/gifts).



> All of the warmest holiday wishes to [on_the_wing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_wing), who I am very excited to gift this fic to for the 2019 Starfighter Secret Santa Exchange! 
> 
> For anyone worried about the major character death warning, just look back at another fic I gifted for the same warning, and you’ll know who it is if you haven’t already guessed it immediately. 
> 
> The names I use for Athos and Ethos in this fic both come from on_the_wing, whether directly from her existing fanon or more indirectly from discussions on the Starfighter Discord.

_UrrrRRRRRRRRrrrrrr! UrrrRRRRRRRRrrrrrr!_

An alarm blared out over the enemy ship’s internal comms system, loud and piercing.

“Shit, tripped the system!” Porthos yelled to the other Alliance soldiers nearby. “Seal the entrances!”

In any other situation, Athos probably would have ribbed his navigator over the error, but when all their lives were on the line it didn’t really seem appropriate.

Instead, he watched as the other navigators working on control panels scattered throughout the room became even more feverish in their motions, fingers flying over unfamiliar displays. He hoisted his blaster into a ready position, just in case.

This was their third Angler mothership in as many months; the first being the one using that initial derelict ship they’d encountered. Ethos had told him all about the post-mortem analysis of the altered components of their ship systems, and what they’d been able to glean from the dataspike. His adorable, curly-haired boyfriend was always so enthusiastic about his work that it kind of made Athos jealous. But he enjoyed listening to the way Ethos could take even the driest or most obscure-seeming subject matter—be it loads of encrypted data, computer logs, or transmissions in another language—and make it seem relevant and interesting.

He’d hung on every word as Ethos talked about the way the Anglers’ screen-based mind-control worked. The analysis team, jointly led by Selene and Ethos himself, had uncovered so much about their enemy’s tactics. The way the “infected” person sent a long-range transmission to the Angler motherships once they had successfully lured and infected all members of a crew. Or disposed of them. Then how they would turn off their life support in preparation for the arrival of the mothership. It was horrifying.

Apparently, though, figuring out how to disable the life support systems of the Anglers themselves without alerting their defenses was a bit of a challenge.

 _Damn space fish_ , he thought.

“Starboard door sealed!” called Abel from a terminal across the central console.

“Port door sealed and cargo elevator disabled!” Ethos yelled over the ongoing wail of alarms, the familiar voice carrying to Athos’ ears just fine.

“Too late! We’ve got incoming!” a woman’s voice rang out loud and clear, projected with a well-practiced air of command.

Athos snapped his head in the direction he’d heard Val— Fenrir from.

 _I’ve gotta stop calling her Valentina just because that’s how Helios always refers to her_ , he chided himself in his head, _It’s unprofessional… and I might earn extra laps if she ever heard me._

Since the _Kepler_ and _Gautama Siddah_ had been assigned to form a task force of experienced soldiers who knew how to handle the Angler threat, she’d been leading the Fighters on the squad. Athos liked her; she was friendly in the same way her little brother Helios was, and she was a force to be reckoned with, too.

“Theta formation!” she called out, taking up a strategic position behind a console with a direct sight line on the yet-to-be-sealed doorway where the first of their enemies were plodding into view.

She aimed and fired a shot directly into the head of the first one through the door. The great, hulking beast crashed to the floor with a wet thud, webbed limbs splayed. If he were forced to choose who would win in a fight, Fenrir or Encke, he wasn’t sure if he could pick. She was good. Really good.

_If Helios and I weren’t such good friends, I might have proposed already. But that would be weird, right? Yeah, probably. I couldn’t do that to him._

Then the Cleaner—what they’d dubbed the symbiotic servants of the Anglers—shook itself and started getting up, unsteady but determined. Gills, or what looked like them, flared around its neck. It dripped even more wet and slime than before, as whatever it had in its cranium leaked down its back.

 _God damn fucking space fish_ , thought Athos, ducking behind a support strut where he could keep an eye on the doorway and the consoles that the navigators were still huddled around. _Why have they got to be so tough?_

A few more well-placed shots put the thing out of commission for good, but in seconds, there were at least three more advancing. He wiped the sweat from his brow before aiming, firing at his own target.

“Fuck! I can’t parse any of this,” he heard Porthos yell in frustration. “It all changed when we set off the emergency systems. Ethos, can you get me real-time translation?”

“Working on it!” the other navigator called from across the room where he had moved to focus on a secondary console.

Athos wasn’t thrilled with the fact that the two navigators he was most concerned about protecting were now spread so far apart. The large space of the engineering control room stretched out between them.

 _Always making my job more difficult,_ he thought as he did the only thing he could, continuing to pick off Cleaners as they drew closer, climbing over the bodies of the fallen without even a second glance. They resembled nothing so much as swamp monsters from old Earth horror films, with features that appeared to be suited to semi-aquatic environments. _Ugh, they’re so creepy!_

They’d called them Cleaners for more than just the caretaking role they seemed to play, tending to the enormous tanks in which their Angler overlords floated in a kind of semi-stasis, enveloped in pitch darkness. They were also the things that erased all traces of biological material from ships that had fallen to the screen-transmitted mind virus—leaving them eerily devoid of any signs of life or struggle, like the Derelict had been. Bringing it all back to the Angler mothership for purposes that Athos would rather not think on. Leaving the husks of ships as lures for new victims.

 _Like we could have been_.

He suppressed a shudder and exhaled, pausing when he was out of breath to take a shot. The energy beam found its mark in the neck of one of the creatures, tearing through fragile gill-like structures, cauterizing as it went. The Cleaner managed to let out a horrible, mangled sound. Mouth agape and webbed, fin-like appendages flailing, it made one last rush towards the line they were holding, weapon firing wildly.

Another shot—this time to the leg—brought it to the ground. It gasped and heaved, but didn’t get up again.

_What a horrible way to die._

Athos fought a bit of nausea at the sight, instead focusing on the effectiveness of his shot.

“AIM FOR THE NECK!” he called out when he could speak again, finally able to look away and find a new target.

Fenrir echoed his instruction, relaying it to the rest of the troops.

There were so many of the Cleaners in the control center already, and the door still hadn’t been closed. They needed every advantage they could get, as close quarters combat seemed more and more inevitable.

 _Not looking forward to going hand to… fin with these things_ , Athos thought.

They were fairly slow moving, but with the smallest of them standing 8 feet plus, you didn’t want to find yourself within striking range. And that didn’t even take into account their quick-firing guns, scattering small energy blasts in a wide radius. At least two fighters and one unlucky navigator standing in the wrong place at the wrong time had already gone down.

“Navigators, prepare to fall back!” Fenrir called, looking to Selene, her counterpart in leading the task force.

“We’re not finished yet,” he called back without looking up from the console, his fingers jabbing wildly as sweat trailed down his temples in the humid environment, “If we don’t get all the stasis support systems shut down, the whole mission will have been for nothing!”

“So we leave some of them alive? So what?”

“So, we don’t know if they get back to their fellow ships or home planet or whatever, that they will decide to start a war with us!”

“I’m not letting you risk all our lives,” said Fenrir after a moment, having just gunned down another Cleaner.

Selene ignored her, giving orders to some of the other navigators around him. He spoke quietly enough that whatever it was didn’t carry to where Athos was positioned. But another voice did carry, its whiny tenor also familiar to him.

“It’s no good,” Phobos shouted, “I’m completely locked out here. We can’t seal that door!”

“If we could get to it, we could try a manual override,” Abel suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Abel! That’s suicide. I know you’re stupid but I thought you’d have a _little_ more sense of self-preservation.”

“WE CAN GET YOU THERE!”

“Though your fighter doesn’t either, apparently.”

The shout had come from the front lines, where Cain and Helios were taking cover behind some crates. Athos glanced across the room, sizing up the situation. Cain was gesturing towards the door.

It was true that the trajectory he was suggesting could be possible, but the odds were terrible given the number of Cleaners between them and the panel.

“ _We’re going in! Watch our balls!_ ” Cain yelled with manic joy, rushing towards the hulking creatures, weaving and taking shots as he went, Helios hot on his heels.

Athos heard Fenrir swear a blue streak before redirecting her efforts to cover her little brother. He also got off a few shots in the direction of his fellow fighters, but had to keep holding back the Cleaners encroaching on their right flank. They were moving towards where Ethos was stationed, separated from the main cluster of consoles that most of the navigators were focused on. He split his attention between the two parts of the battle, catching plenty of Cain’s wild, death-defying fighting style.

The other fighter ran between and around the larger creatures, shooting up as he passed close to them. Blue streaked hair clung to his forehead in the hot, muggy atmosphere of the ship. An almost feral grin on his face as he dodged a sharp-edged fin, blasting the attacking Cleaner in the guts from point blank range. Helios followed close behind, polishing off the enraged and flailing beasts with more careful shots, aiming for the gills.

“They’re actually doing it!” Abel shouted excitedly, “One of us can go out there now, we just have to be quick!”

Energy blasts flew in all directions around the two fighters as they made their way to the door. The Cleaners didn’t seem to care much about friendly fire.

 _Crazy bastards_ , thought Athos, turning to check on the navigators behind him, _Oh no, not you too._

Porthos had placed a hand on Abel’s shoulder, holding the eager navigator back.

“Abel, take over here, I’ve broken through but someone still needs to shut down the systems individually,” he said loud enough to be heard over the sounds of battle. Then he rushed into the skirmish, the only white smudge among a roiling sea of black flight suits and the muddy blues of the enemy. Standing out, making himself an obvious target.

Athos had been proud to be selected as one of the fighter escort force for the navigators who were on the away team, though he knew it probably had more to do with Porthos’ cryptography skills than anything.

Now he regretted his flight partner’s talents. Or at least wished they hadn’t come with such a sense of foolish invincibility as the tall, buff, perfectly-modded man displayed.

 _At least he’s taking cover where he can_.

Athos moved to a better vantage point to cover Porthos, closer to the door that was his destination. He watched his navigator’s progress through the chaotic scene, jaw clenched the whole time, firing at any Cleaner that looked like a threat to the white-suited figure.

He didn’t sigh in relief when his partner reached the door panel and began fiddling with it. Porthos was completely exposed. The only things keeping him safe were the covering fire of the other fighters in the room, and the perimeter that Cain and Helios had won. They were defending it for all they were worth, too—Helios from behind a support strut on the wall nearby, Cain by making himself a distraction. The wilder fighter continued to weave in between approaching Cleaners, engaging them in melee combat.

He used his speed and agility to great advantage, but all it took was one shot.

A round of energy blasts from one of the enemy forces’ guns caught him from behind and he stumbled, but managed to keep his feet. Only for a moment, though. The Cleaner he’d been careening towards took one swing and caught him full across the torso in a diagonal motion that sprayed blood in a wide arc.

“CAIN!”

Athos heard Abel’s shout as the body that had once been Cain fell to the floor unceremoniously.

He didn’t have time to focus on that, though. The Cleaner which had cut down the other fighter was now lumbering toward the doorway. Helios was firing at it but missed the first two shots, clearly shaken. Among all the yelling and blaster fire, the next scream that stood out to him belonged to his navigator, deep and pained.

Athos watched as a bloom of red spread on Porthos’ slick white flight suit. A rose in a field of snow.

He’d been clipped in the shoulder by one of the Cleaners’ weapons. One of the narrow energy beams punching through and leaving a red streak in its wake. Athos felt a protective instinct rise up in him like never before since he’d joined the Alliance. He whirled and shot the source of the offending blast straight through the throat with his own, wider beam.

The Cleaner who had killed Cain was still advancing on Porthos, though.

It had lost its weapon; injured arm hanging limp where one of Helios’ shots must have connected. But the other arm was raised, razor-sharp fin ready to strike once it got in range. His navigator had turned back to the panel, clearly trying to finish what he’d started, life-threatening situation be damned.

Athos dove out from behind cover and raced toward the beast, leading with his blaster. He shot it once, again, and it went down.

“Got it!” Porthos cried triumphantly as Athos reached his side and spun around to face the enemy. The door slammed down, cutting off further entry to the control room.

“Good. Now can we get out of here?”

“WATCH OUT!” called Helios.

Out the corner of his eye, Athos saw the Cleaner he’d just taken down get up again.

It made a final attempt at them from where it knelt, one big limb swinging. Athos shoved Porthos out of the way and narrowly avoided the slicing fin, still red with Cain’s blood.

The creature’s joint still caught him in the sternum, knocking the wind out of him with a sickening crunch of bone and sending him flying into the doorframe. The back of his head cracked against the angled surface and he slumped to the floor.

Everything was pain.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was too bright. No… too loud?

Whichever of those was the one that hurt. Maybe both.

_Definitely both._

Athos’ entire head felt like it would pop open. Neatly, like in a cartoon. The top half hinging open from the bottom.

_Maybe my brain will slither out. Or my eyes. Or maybe my brain will slither out my eye holes. Can that happen? What even prevents that? Eye holes are just like… actual holes in your skull._

Everything was blurry. Or maybe it was spinning.

_Why are we spinning?_

Athos didn’t remember getting into the _Pharaon_. And Porthos was usually a very good pilot, so they shouldn’t be out of control unless—

_Porthos! He was… hurt? Right? Yeah. That sounds like a thing that happened._

No matter how hard he tried, Athos couldn’t seem to make his limbs obey him. His eyes wouldn’t focus, either. The only thing he could see was the afterimage of red on white. A terrifying combination.

_I hope I didn’t fail. I did something, right? I must have… I couldn’t let him get hurt._

Except he had. Something in him was screaming that, louder than the pain. Brighter than the ongoing sounds of battle.

_Battle? Are we fighting?_

He was a fighter. He must have been fighting something. Something that hurt Porthos. Hurt his navigator. His partner.

The one he was supposed to protect.

_Not the only one._

_Ethos. ETHOS._

Athos struggled to focus his vision. Everything still blurred like he was in motion, but his body felt so heavy. He couldn’t possibly be moving. Not when he felt like he weighed more than a Starfighter.

_Was Ethos even with us? That doesn’t make sense. Three people don’t fit in a cockpit. Heh. Unless you really wanted to._

He could swear he heard him, though.

_I hope he’s safe. He shouldn’t be here._

“Athos! ATHOS!”

_It’s too loud. How would anyone hear what he is saying? He needs to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere people can listen. He’s probably saying something important._

“Ethos, stay there! We’ll be fine!”

Everything was loud, but everything sounded far away, too. Like his ears were full of water in the shower.

_I should get the water out. I need to be able to listen._

He tried to listen. All he heard was bright. Blinding.

But somewhere in it, screaming.

_Don’t scream. Porthos is right, we’ll be fine. As soon as it gets less loud. Then I can get up._

His vision cleared slightly. He could make out shapes.

_Everything’s moving. Except me? I should probably be moving._

One shape stood out, brighter than anything else in the room. Glowing white. Brighter than the white-hot engine exhaust on their ships. Propelling itself towards him, though, not away.

“AAAATHOSSS!”

_Ethos? Ethos!_

Struggling, Athos blinked. That was definitely Ethos calling out to him. Running out to him.

_Into a battle? No, he can’t. He’s a navigator, not a fighter. I’m supposed to protect him from this!_

He yelled. Or tried to. His voice wouldn’t cooperate any more than his limbs.

“ETHOS! Don’t! Go back!”

_Oh good. I’m glad someone knows what to do. Porthos?_

He sounded close by.

_Good, better. Not dead, then. But… blood? Not dead, though._

The blinding white came closer. Focused more. Approaching. Maybe fast? It was hard to tell. Everything else was so blurred, it all seemed to be moving.

But everything else dulled, receded. Unimportant.

Only the bright white stood out. Curly hair haloed in light. Against the white, a black shape? More light, even brighter, coming from it in rapid pulses.

_A blaster? Where would he get a blaster from? Who gave him that? That seems dangerous._

He tried to call out again.

_Run! No, the other way! Why isn’t he listening?_

He could hear Ethos screaming for him. Why couldn’t Ethos hear him calling back? 

_He always hears me, even when we talk over each other…_

It was how they’d finally gotten together, after all. How their ‘bachelor bros’ nights had finally turned into nights _together_. Not just spent together out of necessity because Phobos and Porthos, and Deimos and Praxis were getting busy in their respective rooms.

_When was that? It feels like forever ago. When is now?_

Athos closed his eyes again. They were too heavy to keep open.

_He was so cute that night._

Over the weeks (or was it months?) things had gone from friendly, getting-to-know each other conversations, to a more and more charged atmosphere that gave him butterflies.

_Heh. Butterflies. Where does that saying come from? Those are Earth bugs. Why would anyone eat them? How do they end up in your stomach?_

But that time, they’d fallen into awkward silences in ways they hadn’t since they started hanging out. Since the sleepovers of necessity had become something to look forward to. Normally they’d be talking constantly, late into the night. There was always more for them to talk about, it seemed. No matter how much they talked he just wanted to hear more.

_And Ethos wanted to hear more, too. He always seemed interested._

It was pretty rare to find someone he couldn’t talk out. Most people got exhausted at some point. Ethos always seemed keen for more. And Athos couldn’t get enough of him, either.

_I hope he’s okay. I really like him._

That was what he’d managed to admit that night. Eventually. Talking over Ethos as he tried to communicate essentially the same thing. Both of them trying to figure out how to put their feelings into words, and just steamrolling over each other and apologizing for about five minutes straight, until…

_“I like you!” “I want to kiss you!”_

Words garbled together. A moment of shock as they’d just stared at each other.

_His eyes were so blue. Are so blue. So amazing._

Then, no more words. A surprising lack of them, considering how much the two of them liked to talk. They’d completely forgotten about words for the next few moments. And breathing, too. Nothing more important than their mouths pressed against each other.

_I should kiss him again when it’s less loud. When I can hear him._

_And he can hear me. And I can move._

_Wait,_ am _I moving?_

Athos’ limbs felt as heavy as before, but the blurring of his vision had a different character to it. A quality of motion that wasn’t just motion surrounding him.

“Come on, Athos, we’re leaving if I have to carry you.”

_No, I’m fine!_

“I think—shit! You might…”

“Damn Cleaners!”

_Let’s go. Back to the ship. Back to where it’s less bright…_

He closed his eyes again. It was getting dark, now.

A jostling motion. A blinding spike of pain, and then—

_Less bright… good._

Suddenly, blinding bright light again. Athos scrunched his eyes shut.

_At least everything’s stopped moving._

He didn’t feel the world spinning around him anymore. He didn’t feel heavy, either.

_So light. Not bright light._

_That too, but… weightless? No, not quite._

Everything felt fuzzy. Floaty.

Like being wrapped in cotton wool. Insulated from the world. No pain; sensations indistinct.

He tried to move again, and found his limbs a little more responsive. Slow, but not heavy.

_Am I in the snow? Is that why it’s so white-bright? There must have been a storm._

_When was the last time I had to wade through this much snow? When mom was sick? I… I had to go get medicine. It was snowing so much. Why am I out in it now? I hope nobody’s sick… but…_

_Someone got… hurt? Blood. Why can’t I remember? Why is everything so fuzzy?_

He cracked his eyes open again, the glare overwhelming. 

_Porthos!_

He tried to call out, a vague memory rushing back. His navigator, bleeding. A threat. A fight. He tried to move.

“Athos! You’re awake!” a voice in the blinding light.

_Who’s there? Where are you? Porthos?_

“Athos, don’t try to move, okay? I’ll call the nurse.”

_Nurse?_

He couldn’t tell how far away it was. The source of the voice. The familiar voice. Or what it was talking about. Why would a nurse be out in this weather?

He blinked some more, and a shadow moved over him, dimming the glare. His eyes focused a bit better. A white shadow, edged in brightness. A halo of tousled hair, backlit, light streaming through around the edges.

Another vague memory. Pain. So much pain.

A vision of an angel. Not some pious painting from ancient Earth. An angel of vengeance, of deliverance, charging into battle. An awesome figure—in the biblical sense—come to change the tide of conflict.

And then, darkness. And then… now?

_Ethos… Ethos? I’m forgetting something._

Had he spoken this time?

“Shhh, Athos, it’s okay.”

The shadow shifted, light changing its angle. Illuminating a profile and letting him focus, squinting. A familiar cheek, an adorable nose, and the glint of sky-blue eyes.

_Ethos!_

Happiness and… relief? surged through him. Exhaustion, too. He didn’t know why. He hadn’t exactly done anything. Maybe it was all that trudging through the snow.

_Why is Ethos in the snow? It’s too cold._

But he didn’t feel cold. Just a nebulous sensation of fuzzy, far-away warmth. Tingles, like all of his limbs had fallen asleep and were just now getting pins-and-needles.

_Ethos… Ethos…E— something? E… what? Why can’t I remember?_

If his brain didn’t feel so floaty, maybe he’d know. It was something important. He knew that much.

_Something with Ethos._

He felt heavy again, in his body. His eyes closed. He fought to open them again, the effort considerable. But worth it, to see that familiar face peering at him across the hazy, snow-filled landscape. Light reflecting off every surface, so bright.

“E—”

“Hey, I’m here. You’re safe, don’t worry.”

Athos didn’t feel worried. How could he worry? Wrapped in this comforting blanket of snow, watched over by a benevolent presence. He drifted in the heavy, floaty feeling. Let his eyes close, dimming the bright white world.

Trying to remember what it was that was just out of his grasp. Just out of the reach of his cotton-wool stuffed head.

_E…_

They were holding hands, laying side by side on the narrow bunk. Athos could feel the cold metal wall against his naked flank, but didn’t move, not wanting to send Ethos rolling off the threadbare mattress.

He looked over, meeting a brilliant blue gaze, made even bluer in contrast with the rosy, flushed cheeks beneath. Tousled, white-blond hair stuck in places to the round forehead above, or up at odd angles, even messier than usual.

He could have stayed there all night, quietly staring into Ethos’ eyes. But his brain whirred back online and his mouth opened of its own accord, as it often did.

“You ever think about how they choose our task names?”

“Huh?” Ethos murmured, stopping to yawn afterward. His eyebrows perked up, though, generally a signal that he was interested and listening.

“Like why they sound similar? And why they’re so weird.”

“What do you mean, weird?”

“I dunno. They’re all like, from famous books or something, right?”

“Oh! A lot of them are mythological or literary in origin, I suppose,” Ethos scrunched his brows together in thought.

Athos always thought it was adorable when he did that.

_So serious looking._

“Sure, sure. I bet they have some significance or something, especially the way they get assigned to Fighter-Navigator pairs.”

“I guess maybe they do. But some of them aren’t even pairs in their source material.”

“What d’ya mean?” Athos rolled onto his side to see Ethos’ expressions better.

It was awkward lying on his arm, though, so he let go of the other man’s hand. Propping his head up instead, he let his free hand drift over to trace along Ethos’ forearm, idly connecting freckles as he listened to the answer.

“Umm, take yours, for example. Athos and Porthos are only two of a set of three names from classic Terran literature.”

“So they’re not gay celebrities, then?”

Ethos giggled, high and sudden, smiling shyly after the laughter subsided.

“No, not quite. They’re fictional, for one. Their sexualities could be arguable, though, I suppose.”

“Hm, you know, I think Porthos might have mentioned this before,” said Athos, trying to recall details of the first time he’d met his navigator, “He mentioned that his… A… Ara? What was that name?”

“Aramis?”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Anyway, apparently his Aramis didn’t work out and got reassigned.”

Ethos turned his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I kind of like the name Aramis. It’s too bad that’s not my task name. We could have been the three musketeers!”

“Well, I may always be one to take a compliment, but I’m not sure I’m _that_ amazing a fighter. Can you imagine, the Alliance assigning me two navigators all to myself?”

“You’d probably share better than a lot of the fighters,” Ethos said, looking back at him with a mischievous smile.

_Huh._

“Well it’s not exactly hard to beat Cain in that department. It’s a wonder he doesn’t lock Abel in their room between missions.”

Ethos gave a little gasp. Scandalized, but giggling again behind his hand.

“Do you not like the name Ethos, then?” Athos ventured, curious.

“O- oh! No, I- I mean, I do.”

“Because I do. It suits you.”

The flush that had been fading from the navigator’s cheeks as they made silly pillow talk flared right back up, glaring pink. Tempted, Athos leaned in to place a kiss over one round cheek, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath his lips.

“Uh, thanks,” said Ethos, dipping his head in embarrassment, but smiling wide anyway, “I was actually pretty happy when I got assigned this task name. It was quick to get used to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Um, I guess because it starts with the same letter as my, uh… my actual name.”

“No way!” Athos rolled practically on top of the man lying next to him, staring down at his blushing face, “Same here!”

“Really? It makes it easier to remember, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, totally. Plus, my parents always call me by my full name, so I guess I have this ingrained response to ‘A’ sounds or something. Made paying attention when a superior called me out easier, I think.”

“Ha! How often do you get called out by the Lead Fighter?” Ethos asked, clearly holding back another giggle.

“Not _that_ often…” said Athos, joining in on the laughter afterward and staring down at big, blue eyes full of mirth. His mouth decided to say something before his brain could catch up again. “So, what is your name, anyway, E?”

It was still bright as Athos drifted back into consciousness. Still floaty, but less indistinct.

_E… elusive. Not anymore._

_Eloquent. Exciting. Electric. Elevating. Expressive…_

_Ethos…_

He opened his eyes, blinking into the light. The surroundings resolving themselves into walls and curtains and medical machinery. A field of white, reflecting the overhead fluorescent lights. And yet, among it all, one spot of white stood out.

White blond hair, slightly greasy looking, atop a rumpled white uniform. Undone at the collar and falling open in that listless, defeated way of clothing worn for too long.

_Exhausted… E—_

“Ewan.”

Certain he’d actually managed to speak this time—even if the hoarse croak sounded nothing like him—Athos watched as the navigator at his bedside practically jumped in the chair he’d been slumped in, staring into space. Sat up, head snapping toward the bed, suddenly alert.

“W- what?”

Big, blue eyes, shining not with mirth this time, but with relief.

“Ewan… I didn’t forget.”

“Shhhh, Drew!” said Ethos, coming over to his bedside, tears welling in his eyes, “We’re not supposed to—”

“Fuck it.”

His throat was so sore. Drier than the soils of Mars. But this was important. He’d remembered.

He felt something. A hand? In his? It felt so insubstantial, so muted. He looked down and could clearly see pale fingers clasping what must be his own, resting on the bed.

“Ewan… I didn’t forget…”

He looked up again, watching tears splash down freckled cheeks as Ethos bit his lower lip, struggling for control.

“I know,” came the response in one shaky breath.

He felt so heavy again, but he had to make sure of one thing before he drifted too much. It was the only thing in his head, the urgency of communicating it cutting through the haze around his brain.

“I didn’t forget,” Athos’ voice cracked but he soldiered on, forcing the rest of the sentence out with his remaining breath, “… I love you.”

He was floating again, eyes closing. If he got a response, he didn’t hear it.

But he felt the distant squeeze of a hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Fragments of lucidity were interspersed with memories and long stretches of unconsciousness filling an indeterminate amount of time. Athos wasn’t sure what kind of drugs the MO had put him on, but they must have been the good kind. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been in med bay. He drifted in and out of wakefulness, never feeling any pain; just a strange, contradictory sensation of lightness and unbelievable heaviness, like his limbs weighed as much as a shuttlecraft.

Snatches of new memories stayed with him, though—the only way he knew time was passing at all.

Once, he was certain he’d woken, but Ethos was gone. Presumably to get some much-needed rest. Somewhere in the fringes of his awareness, a different white-clad observer sat by his bed. A shock of snowy white hair atop a half-shaved head, calm grey eyes beneath it trained on him.

_Porthos!_

Had he spoken? Maybe not. He was too out of it to try again.

Athos felt strangely watched over and protected. It was confusing. Like a sudden role reversal; his navigator taking the fighter’s role...

_That’s supposed to be my job._

Not that Porthos had ever needed his protection, really. He was always so competent and self-sufficient. It was why they made a good team. Probably why they’d been partnered in the first place. Why they consistently placed well in the rankings, even if neither of them cared much about such an artificial measure of success. Never hitting the top spot, but never performing badly, either.

_We didn’t die. That’s gotta count as some kind of success._

Neither needed the other, but together they could do even more than apart.

Athos let himself float back out into that vast sea of darkness, warmed by the knowledge that he had a dependable partner back on shore.

He could have been drifting like that for minutes or days. In his state he couldn’t say. Though when he next came to, Porthos was still there. Still watching; a silent vigil.

His navigator fetched the nurse and brought him a cup full of ice chips to suck on.

_These are the tastiest meal I’ve ever had,_ Athos couldn’t help thinking, even though it was ridiculous. _It’s just frozen bits of water!_

But his throat had felt like the vast deserts of Mars, very little moisture to be found until the snows rolled in. The slippery-cool sensation of liquid slowly filling his mouth and dribbling down his parched gullet was satisfying in a way that he couldn’t put words to, even now that he could talk more easily.

The nurse adjusted some knobs on the machines he was hooked up to and changed a bag of IV fluid, injecting something into the intake valve.

_Painkillers?_

Athos realized he might not have much more time awake if his guess was right. But he had so many questions now that his entire head didn’t feel like it was wrapped in thick, insulating fabric!

He felt at his head, suddenly aware of an itch around both temples. Bandages wrapped the whole way around, holding gauze at the back.

“You got a pretty nasty gash there,” said Porthos, speaking for the first time since he’d initially welcomed Athos back to the land of the not-drugged-out-of-their-gourds, “I wouldn’t touch it too much if I were you.”

“In a fight?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Only bits and pieces,” Athos responded, letting his head fall gently back to the pillow. Not that he could feel much anyway, but better to be careful, he supposed. He turned onto one cheek so he could still meet his navigator’s eyes now that he was sitting again. “Not exactly sure what happened, and what I dreamt.”

Porthos gave an amused huff of breath out of his nose. Not quite a snort; he was too well-bred for that kind of behaviour.

“You remember me going for the door panel to do a manual override?”

Athos made an affirmative hum, already starting to feel sleepy again.

“Remember running out to get me?”

_Red bursting onto a field of white. Pure terror singing in his veins._

Athos’ eyes snapped open again, no longer drooping and leading him towards that place of floating peace.

“That was pretty fucking stupid of you, by the way. Could’ve ended up like Cain. Damn near did.”

“So Cain…”

“Yeah, he bit it,” Porthos shrugged one shoulder, but the way he was bristling, Athos was amazed that his mohawk wasn’t standing on end. “Pretty heroically, too. I always kind of expected Cain to go out with his dick stuck in an exhaust port…”

Athos bit back a laugh, not least of which to avoid doing any more damage to the parts of himself that had landed him in this medical bed in the first place. But he couldn’t help the feeling of concern that lingered.

_He doesn’t usually let anything phase him. Certainly not to the point of seeming… angry?_

“Helios? Is he…”

“He’s fine. Physically, anyway. Big sis made sure of that, and Selene’s been fussing over him even more than usual since we got back.”

_He’s probably pretty shaken up over Cain,_ Athos thought, hoping he’d remember this later and be able to check in with his friend. He willed his brain to retain all this new information, even as he fought a losing battle with his focus.

Only the afterimage of Porthos by that doorway—shot and bleeding onto his pristine flight suit—kept him from sinking into the pillow and falling asleep.

“What happened then?”

“Well, you saved me from that Cleaner, but then we were sitting ducks.”

_Whatever that means. What’s a duck? It sounds funny._

“We probably wouldn’t have made it out if Ethos hadn’t come to get us.”

“So… that was him?”

“You remember it? I thought you were pretty much down for the count by that point.”

He tried to shrug, but his whole body felt heavy and he gave up. Luckily Porthos continued to fill him in, anyway.

“It’s too bad you didn’t get to really see it,” he paused, face twitching in a manner Athos wasn’t familiar with, “Or maybe you’re lucky you didn’t. I’m still pissed at him for being so fucking reckless.”

He watched as his navigator shifted in his seat. Whether trying to get comfortable or just fidgeting was unclear, but Porthos didn’t tend to fidget. At least, not normally.

“He’d been watching from his console instead of retreating to the position being held by the rest of the team. Once you went down he practically leapt into the fray.”

_No! How could I endanger him like that?_

Athos almost missed the rest of Porthos’ explanation; what was left of his conscious thought spent berating himself for his failure as a fighter.

“—so, he grabs a blaster from the body of one of the other fighters who went down in battle and keeps running toward us. Gun blazing, totally heedless of the danger.”

A low moan from Athos got a nod in response.

“Yeah, I could have killed him myself if I hadn’t had my hands full dragging your sorry ass to safety,” he said, but his tone had that same air of playful razzing he so often used when it was just the two of them doing sims or working on the ship. “But I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty hot.”

They sat in silence for a moment, until Athos realized he hadn’t actually asked how Porthos was.

“You’re okay, though?”

“Been better. This’ll probably leave a nasty scar until I can get it taken care of back home,” said his navigator, undoing the claps of his uniform jacket and pulling the fabric to either side. Bandaging all over his shoulder was obvious, peaking out around the edges of his undershirt.

“I’m glad you’re not more hurt,” Athos said, words slurring a little as he finally began drifting off, content that both of the navigators he had sworn to protect—either to the Alliance or just to himself—were going to be fine. “I’m glad that Cleaner didn’t get you.”

Porthos looked at him, those placid grey eyes holding his gaze for longer than was strictly comfortable.

Athos brain couldn’t muster any awkwardness, though, his blinks lasting longer and longer.

“Thanks, by the way,” he heard Porthos say as sleep claimed him, “Probably should have led with that, huh?”

The sound of hushed, yet clearly arguing voices greeted him when he woke again. Cracking open eyes dusty with sleep, he blinked until the scene around him came into something closer to proper focus. It still blurred around the edges, the sandman not quite letting him out of his greedy clutches.

Ethos was standing by the foot of the bed, having a conversation with one of the nurses. They were trying to keep quiet, but it was immediately apparent that the conversation had grown heated.

“—still can’t spend all your time down here,” the nurse was whispering, a hissed quality to the words, “You’re not a patient. You have your own duties to attend to.”

“I’m off shift right now,” Ethos retorted, “I have every right to be here, and I’ll petition the MO if you try and send me away again! Failing that, I’m sure Commander Hayden would give me a dispensation.”

_Awwwww!_

Watching his boyfriend’s expression—fire behind those normally soft blue eyes—Athos was certain that he must have looked similar when he’d come to their rescue during the battle. Righteous anger and unwavering loyalty obvious in everything from the set of his jaw to his stance. Unmoveable. Determined.

“He’ll still be here tomorrow, sleeping most of the day anyway.”

“That’s fine. I want to be here now, even if he’s asleep.”

How he could be so cute and so utterly badass, and not realize he was either one boggled Athos’ mind. How other people didn’t see this, even more so.

_He’ll make a good Commander one day._

Athos had the thought, and felt very lucky.

He had two navigators watching over him. Fighting battles he couldn’t.

When he was finally clear-headed enough to ask about his injuries, Athos almost wished he hadn’t.

Fractured skull, concussion of indeterminate severity but low likelihood of serious brain damage, six broken ribs, a bruised lung, and some deep tissue damage and internal bleeding. The MO listed off the damage like a grocery checklist before checking his vitals again.

_No wonder I’ve been out of it for so long._

Ethos held his hand through the entire conversation, and the MO ignored it in the most professional way possible.

_He probably has plenty of practice,_ Athos thought, mind wandering even though he was trying his best to listen. _I swear… these drugs, can’t focus on anything!_

“—and you’re very lucky you didn’t end up with worse. If even one of those ribs had punctured a lung, you’d be looking at discharge for medical leave. As it is—”

He was interrupted by one of the other medical staff peeking in around the edge of the privacy curtain.

“Doctor, when you’re finished here, we have a Code Periwinkle that just came in,”

The MO sighed, suddenly seeming years older as he massaged his temples.

“Thank you, Nurse Tsurinov. Prepare the speculum and forceps and I’ll be there in a few moments.”

The nurse nodded and dashed off, his quiet footsteps retreating down the wing.

“Where was I? Oh yes, prognosis,” he flipped through the chart on his datapad. “With another few weeks here, you’ll be healed enough for a full workup of brain scans and then we can release you.”

“Weeks? Aw man, seriously?”

Ethos squeezed his hand and Athos quieted, still disappointed but finished publically griping for the moment.

“Seriously. And then you’ll still be off duty for at least a month after that; the only activity allowed will be physio here with one of the specialists. Depending on how you’re doing then, we can discuss partially resuming some of your light duties, such as simulation training with your navigator. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go deal with whatever situation your hooligan comrades have gotten themselves into.”

Athos waited a few seconds after the curtain had swung closed again and they could hear the MO being briefed by the nurse on the way to a different wing of medical, then started giggling. It hurt a bit, in a dull way, across his chest and below his ribs. They’d been slowly weaning him off the drugs administered by IV, and the patches they’d stuck on him just didn’t have quite the same efficacy.

But it was worth it to see Ethos struggle to keep his composure, and fail. His laugh was too joyous to be contained.

“I wonder what that’s about?”

“I don’t think we want to know.”

“Ha ha! You’re probably right, as usual. I bet whatever it is makes my situation seem a whole lot less awful. I don’t get a special colour code.”

Ethos frowned at that. Not the reaction Athos had been going for with the joke.

“It’s okay to be upset over this, you know,” said the navigator, running his fingers up and down the back of Athos’ hand. The one which hadn’t had an IV installed in it up until a day ago.

“Not worth getting upset over,” replied Athos, wishing that shrugging didn’t hurt, “Can’t exactly do anything to change it. Just gotta wait it out!”

“It’s a long time, isn’t it? But it could be worse...” Ethos trailed off, biting his nails a little before adding, “I’m happy it’s not worse.”

Athos squeezed the hand which was nestled in his own again. He smiled over at the man sitting beside him, until he got a little bit of a smile in return. Round cheeks dimpling in a way he didn’t think he’d ever tire of seeing.

“Me too. I’m more concerned about you, really,” he said, trying to keep his words light even as he broached a subject that had been on his mind a fair bit, now that he was semi-coherent again, “You heard the doc: I’m not allowed to perform my boyfriend-ly duties or any other kind of fun _activities_ except with the physio specialists. And they’re not really my type; way too sadistic.”

The smile on Ethos’ face fell like a house of cards, collapsing as he cast his eyes downward. He pulled his hand back from Athos’ grasp.

Athos’ chest tightened even more; uncertainty as sharp a pain as his injuries, but without any kind of anesthetic available.

“I- I need to tell you s- something,” Ethos said, eyes on the bedspread between them.

“Sure. What is it?” Athos kept his tone as neutral as he could.

“Porthos and I s- slept together while you were lying here, hurt—”

Athos tried to interrupt, but the start of his words was steamrolled by the navigator continuing his confession undeterred. Blue eyes shone with unshed tears again, but his boyfriend’s expression wasn’t relieved like it had been earlier.

“W- we didn’t even wait until you’d woken uh- up. Medical kicked us out once Porthos was treated a- and told us you’d be a- all right… and to come back the next day… w- we just… I just… it was s- so scary… we just needed….” He didn’t continue, a shudder wracking his broad shoulders, shaking his tousled curls.

A spike of jealousy shot up in Athos, ugly and petulant.

_Stop it,_ he thought, chiding himself internally, _There’s nothing to be upset over. This isn’t news. It’s not like they just started fucking._

“Hey, it’s okay,” he started.

“I’m suh- sorry, Drew.” Ethos sounded utterly miserable.

Athos reached for his hand again. Stretching like that was painful, but grasping soft fingers with familiar calluses and not getting pushed away again was worth it.

“It’s okay, Eth… Ewan. I get it. We all went through a rough battle; he could have died! You shot an actual gun! You weren’t trained to have to do that.”

“Yes, b- but—”

“You needed comfort. I couldn’t be there to give it to you,” he paused, letting his words sink in for himself, too, “I’m glad Porthos was.”

A shaky breath, then, in a soft voice: “Really?”

“Really.” He squeezed Ethos’ hand, hoping that he had succeeded in conveying some comfort as they sat quietly for a long moment.

_It’s not like anything has changed._

“Please, Ewan, don’t guilt yourself over this,” he said, unable to stew in the silence any longer, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

The answer sounded less than convinced.

“We agreed on this before I got hurt, and it hasn’t changed. Me being out of commission doesn’t mean you two should suffer as well.”

“It wouldn’t be—” Ethos started, then changed tacks, “It’s not fair that you have to suffer.”

“Sure it is. I made a stupid decision and ran into a dangerous situation.”

“You saved him, though.”

“Yeah, and we’d both be in here—or worse—if you hadn’t come to save us.”

“I- I didn’t… I mean…” he sounded flustered, grasping at some way to keep blaming himself.

“Just don’t let him get you into a Code Periwinkle situation,” Athos teased, hoping to end the other man’s self-imposed guilt trip once and for all.

Ethos let out a startled laugh and covered his mouth. A smile showed from behind his hand, even wider than before.

If there was one thing that surprised Athos most about being stuck in med bay for an extended period of time, it was how often his navigator came to see him. He hadn’t expected Porthos to spend so much time there while he recovered. After all, when they were actively working together, they had always tended to part ways when they finished their sim rig training or repairs. They had their own friends, and lived fairly independent existences.

Yet, he woke to find Porthos at his bedside almost as frequently as Ethos. Though strangely enough, they were rarely there together.

The first time Athos had dragged himself from unconsciousness and they were both present, his heart leapt. It felt like undeniable proof that they had all made it back safely. Even though he knew it logically, it was nice to confirm that his visits from either one of them separately weren’t just figments of his drug-addled imagination.

He hoped the dreams he’d started having were, though.

He’d never had sex dreams about his navigator before now, even though Porthos was undeniably attractive. With those shoulders, those gorgeous grey eyes, that stature which let him tower over many of the fighters… He even managed to make that stupid haircut look good—a feat which Athos still considered impressive.

But they’d only ever gotten along in a platonic, gym-bros sort of way, even from when they were first paired together. They worked together and only occasionally hung out in their shared room, shooting the shit.

_Just bros being bros._

Athos resolutely ignored the thought that flitted into his mind.

_Ethos and I were just bros until…_

Besides, so many fighters and navigators ended up with crushes on their partners, at least at the start. Even if it didn’t go anywhere, being paired with someone who was supposedly a good match for you—meant to complement your skills and personality—held a strong allure for most new soldiers in the Alliance.

Athos had considered himself lucky to not have fallen into that trap, or worse yet, to have his navigator carrying a torch for him when the feelings were unrequited.

Now his head was all messed up, and he couldn’t tell how much of it was the drugs, how much of it was the possible brain damage… Perhaps it was more the understanding of possibilities? When they’d been paired, he’d known immediately that Porthos and Phobos were dating. He could have registered that it wasn’t an option and just ignored anything to the contrary.

Now, with the full knowledge that Porthos and Ethos were together, too, might his mind be revisiting doors closed long ago? In light of new information, maybe it was considering what could have been.

_What might still become._

He set aside that sudden idea as the even-more-tangential-than-usual activity of his now rather disjointed thought process.

Or it could be some sort of next-level compersion. He was thrilled that Ethos was getting the attention, care, and devotion he deserved from someone else, too. Someone who could offer him different things. And someone Athos had a great deal of respect and appreciation for, to boot! What if he was feeling the same kind of thrill that Ethos was giving that to Porthos, as well? He might be layering his response to his boyfriend and his navigator on top of each other, the feedback getting confused in his own mind.

He hadn’t spent too much time thinking about them together in depth, but…he would admit, at least to himself, that he was a little bit curious how the two of them got on in private.

In public, it just looked like Ethos talking up a storm and Porthos listening attentively. A smile playing at the edges of his lips when he wasn’t adding the occasional well-considered point to their conversation. Something that could be mistaken for mere friendship if you didn’t know what to look for.

The way Ethos let himself lean in closer. The way he stuttered and cut himself off less when speaking. Or the way he brushed his hand against the back of Porthos’ when they walked side-by-side in the halls.

_I wonder if they have the same dynamic when they’re alone._

Whether Ethos dominated their interactions. Whether they switched. Whether Porthos watched with such rapt attention as Ethos came, his face contorting in pleasure. Whether he appreciated and actively worked to elicit the many and varied noises Ethos was capable of making that weren’t in any of the languages he spoke. At least as far as Athos knew.

_Stupid sexy Ethos._

It could definitely be that. Just a consequence of his attraction to Ethos and desire to see him enjoying himself, no matter who with.

Or alternatively, he really couldn’t know how much of it was the sudden activation of strong emotional responses.

_That would make sense. Porthos and Ethos have been dating for a while and I never had these dreams before. Before seeing…_

Seeing his navigator get shot. Deep red on pristine white. An image that would surely haunt him for years to come.

He could be confusing his protective instinct with other feelings…

_It’s probably just the drugs, though. They could market these as a marital aid, I bet._


	4. Chapter 4

His discharge day had finally come, but Athos was more apprehensive than he should have been.

As part of the special task force handling the Angler threat, they all had to have regular brain scans. All their records were on file, allowing the medical researchers to determine whether there had been any changes to their normal brainwave patterns and make sure they hadn’t ended up under Angler control on their away missions.

_Heh, space flu._

The Alliance wasn’t taking any chances when it came to potentially losing another ship to this enemy they still knew so little about.

Before he could be released from med bay, he had to have a full workup of brain scans. Everyone else who had been on the away team had gone through them immediately after returning to the _Kepler_ and _Gautama Siddha_. Heck, if he was a navigator they might have done it even before his head had mostly healed.

_Fighters are just muscle, not threats,_ he thought, a bit indignant, _I know things about ship engines too! I could probably figure out how to sabotage some if I tried…_

Lying in the claustrophobic examination tube, Athos felt like he would burn up with embarrassment. Bits of his latest dream kept flashing through his mind as he tried to focus on the baseline exercises.

“A3… D7… B4…” he said, the simple grid pattern on the screen in front of him flashing as he read out coordinates.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the MO could see his fantasies and his guilt, even though he knew it didn’t work that way.

After putting on a fresh set of comfy clothes Porthos had brought down for him, he left medical for the first time since the disastrous mission weeks earlier. Sure, he was still using Ethos’ arm for support and going a lot slower than he’d like to be, but he _was_ walking under his own power.

The nurse on duty had offered to let Athos borrow a wheelchair to head back to his room. Porthos had even offered to push, but he’d turned them both down. It wasn’t that far to the lift, and their bunk wasn’t too distant from the exit on their floor of the barracks levels.

It just felt so good to be free of the medical bed. To be walking with his two favourite navigators, listening to Ethos talk about his day like everything was normal again.

By the time they finally reached the room, he almost wished he had taken the nurse up on the offer.

He collapsed onto the lower bunk, exhausted already.

“I hope you’re okay trading beds for a little while, Porthos,” he said, slightly short of breath, “Because I’m not getting up again.”

“I figured as much,” replied his navigator, sounding amused.

“Lucky for you, you don’t have to get up again,” said Ethos, coming over and pulling the sheet up to his waist, “You should stay here and rest some more.”

Athos turned his head when Ethos leaned in to kiss his cheek and caught the other man’s lips instead. He drank in the soft, surprised noise and was pleased when Ethos kissed him back tenderly before pulling away.

“Why don’t you stay here and help me rest?”

“I, uh, promised Abel that I’d help him with the analysis for a special project. And I’ll probably stay just to hang out with him for a little while,” Ethos responded, looking a little crestfallen, “You know, keep him company.”

He left the rest of the thought unspoken, but it came across loud and clear. The other navigator had been having a rough time adjusting since losing his fighter. If Athos were a more selfish person, he’d have been disappointed at being ditched, even if it was because Ethos was so big-hearted.

_Well, more disappointed. I’m not a saint._

After one more lingering kiss, Ethos stood up straight and turned to leave. Athos watched as he froze, clearly uncertain how to handle saying goodbye to Porthos as well.

_He’s adorable when he’s thinking._

The shorter navigator settled for going over to where the taller one was leaning on their shared drawers, half-seated. Ethos placed a quick peck on Porthos’ lips, a flush creeping over his cheeks.

“I’ll see you both later,” he said, standing at the door panel and pressing for it to slide open, “Rest up, Athos.”

“Yes, Sir!” Athos couldn’t help calling out, smiling when Ethos ducked his head in embarrassment and mumbled something unintelligible as he left.

The door slid shut and he was alone with Porthos.

He’d been alone with Porthos in this room hundreds of times, but now it felt different. No longer the quiet companionship of two people who shared space. Or even the barely contained simmer of annoyance that two people who shared space sometimes felt for each other.

_I wonder if it feels any different to him. Maybe I’m just paranoid. Too many drugs. Too much time sitting around doing nothing in medical..._

He almost jumped when Porthos crossed his arms, the movement seeming sudden.

“So... I just wanted to make sure it’s still cool if me and Ethos...”

_He doesn’t waste any time, does he?_ Athos thought, _He’s always been pretty direct, I guess._

When he realized that his navigator didn’t intend to continue from where he’d trailed off, Athos responded hastily. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

The tall blond shrugged, wincing a little with the movement of his shoulder.

_Glad I’m not the only one who forgets they’re still injured._

“Just wanted to make sure you were fine with it.”

“Definitely,” he assured the other man, wanting the awkward conversation to end.

Porthos nodded, getting up and walking over to the desk, taking a seat in the only chair in their room.

“Just… take good care of him,” Athos added a moment later, unable to restrain his mouth from adding more before his brain could rein it in, “But I’m sure you’ve been doing that already.”

A silence stretched out between them as Porthos pretended to busy himself with his tablet, flicking idly at the screen. Athos decided to close his eyes, certain that the pregnant pause would be broken if he gave Porthos plausible deniability by pretending to be falling asleep.

As predicted, it wasn’t long before Porthos added, “You could watch, if you like.”

Athos could hear his fingers brushing at invisible dust on the spotless white uniform he wore. A nervous tic the other man probably didn’t even realize he had. 

“I’m sure Ethos would be fine with it,” his navigator finally finished.

Athos gave a noncommittal hum as if drifting off again, but his mind whirred with everything implied by the suggestion. A suggestion given as casually as possible, but unable to disguise the weight of consequence it contained. Sleep would not be coming to him any time soon.

The next day was immensely boring. Being off duty for medical reasons was the worst. Athos spent much of the day napping, some of it reading, and even got up and walked around the hall outside for a bit, but was disheartened by how quickly he tired. Porthos brought him lunch and dinner from the mess hall, and Athos couldn’t help suspecting that he’d snuck him a tray from the navigator’s dispensers. It tasted much better than he remembered.

_Or maybe that’s just in contrast to the slop in med bay._

The awkwardness of their conversation from the previous night was gone; both of them acting like it had never occurred. Athos still felt a bit off-kilter around the other man, though. Something in the usual balance of their partnership had been upset.

“I’m back to the lab for a bit, I’ll see you later,” Porthos excused himself after dinner, “Oh, and I think Ethos might stop by, if you aren’t too tired for visitors. He said to pass along his apologies for missing lunch. Selene called him into a last-minute meeting with Fenrir.”

“I’m definitely not tired. I spent half the day sleeping, I think.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know,” said Porthos, an unusual smile on his face as he left the room.

When the two navigators came back later that evening, Athos could tell that their group dynamic was about to get even more interesting.

Ethos’ cheeks were obviously flushed when they entered, and Athos was positive that both of them were at least half hard. Athos would know that awkward stance Ethos was in anywhere. It pretty much screamed ‘My dick’s tucked into the waistband of my underwear and I want it to _not_ be’.

They’d clearly just been making out; getting pretty hot and heavy if the evidence he’d picked up on was to be believed.

Although they both said hello in a normal enough way, an unspoken tension filled the room. Like a string pulled so taught it practically vibrated with the strain. Athos wondered what would happen if he plucked it.

He didn’t need to wait long to find out.

“How are you doing?” Ethos asked, coming over to kiss him hello. It lasted longer than any standards of social decency would consider reasonable, and contained far too much tongue.

“Better now that you’re here.” He couldn’t help the grin on his face.

Ethos’ face went even more red at that, but he leaned in again. This time instead of kissing Athos, he whispered into his ear, hot breath tickling.

“Umm, Porthos mentioned that you, uh, might not mind if we… well, you know…”

Athos tilted his head to bring his lips closer to Ethos’ ear, in return. His nose nuzzled into soft, white-blond locks of hair and he couldn’t help lamenting the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to join in the fun that now seemed imminent.

“I’m not in any shape to help out, but go for it,” he whispered, placing a kiss along his boyfriend’s jaw line afterward.

Ethos pulled back enough that they could make eye contact again. The flush over his round cheeks was practically glowing it was so fierce.

“You’re sure?”

Athos nodded, marvelling at how gorgeous he looked, pupils blown out with desire.

Porthos was already ahead of them both, pulling the thin mattress off the top bunk with his good arm. Ethos leapt to help him, grabbing the other end and maneuvering it to the ground beside the lower bunk where Athos was half-reclined, propped up on both pillows.

He watched as the two white-clad men stepped toward each other. Porthos wrapped Ethos up in his arms, but carefully, keeping his hold loose on one side. Ethos went up on his toes, hands on Porthos’ hips for balance, and kissed him as deeply as he’d just finished kissing Athos. Porthos moaned, deep and needy, hands running up and down the smaller man’s back.

_Oh fuck, that’s hot._

The two made out some more; bodies pressing against each other, hands carding through messy pale hair, breathing audible in the small room. Athos watched fingers venturing around the edges of clothing; unclasping jacket fasteners, untucking undershirts.

Ethos took a half step backward, opening up a little space between their bodies. Then he ran one hand up the front of Porthos’ uniform pants where they were looking tighter than normal. The larger man gasped and bucked his hips into the touch.

“Why don’t we lie down?” suggested Ethos, stepping further away, back towards the mattress on the floor. He lowered his body to it, sitting with legs out in front of him, leaning back a little on his hands.

The bulge in his uniform pants was very obvious in that position, and Athos felt his mouth water at the sight.

Porthos must have been having the same reaction, because he saw the bigger man swallow, then lick his lips as he knelt down. He shuffled forward on his knees, looking slightly awkward until he put one hand down beside Ethos’ hips and leaned in to keep kissing him. His other arm came up to cup Ethos’ chin, then caress his neck. The larger man shifted a little further forward, legs straddling Ethos’ outstretched ones as he lowered himself down.

Ethos was the one to gasp this time, as Porthos sat in his lap and began rolling his hips slowly back and forth.

The two navigators stayed like that for a while, connected below the waist and tongues diving into each other’s mouths. Ethos wrapped his arms around Porthos’ back and sat up more so the taller navigator’s erection pressed into his stomach with each forward motion.

Athos knew exactly how that felt, and bit his lip with the memory of being in the same position. Looking down into sky-blue eyes, brushing aside pale locks of tousled hair, bending to kiss freckled cheeks, plush lips, a soft jaw line.

_What I wouldn’t give to be in Porthos’ position right now..._

He watched as Ethos’ hands moved lower, settling on his navigator’s hips and clamping down, firm but gentle. He started directing the pace of Porthos’ grinding motions, elongating them and getting him to press down harder. Both of them panting into each other’s mouths between kisses that were getting progressively needier, less directed—more like the idea of a kiss. A motion approximating one; lips dragging along each other, tongues darting out briefly.

Ethos traced up the front of Porthos’ body, careful to avoid his bad shoulder while removing his uniform jacket. Porthos returned the favour, and upped the ante by immediately going for the hem of Ethos’ undershirt. He ran his hands along the smaller man’s back, taking the fabric with him as he went, exposing even more pale skin. Their mouths parted for long enough to get the fabric over Ethos’ head and tossed aside, immediately returning to each other. After a few more lingering kisses, Ethos removed Porthos’ shirt without ceremony. The crumpled fabric joined its matching companion on the floor beside the mattress.

The taller navigator leaned even closer, forcing Ethos to crane his neck back to keep kissing him. He kept going, slowly leaning them down to the padded surface they sat on. His good arm came up by Ethos’ head for support as they ended up mostly horizontal.

Two broad, muscled bodies shifted against each other. Blond hair tangled where their foreheads nearly met. Athos watched them stare into each other’s eyes; blue into grey, like a cloudy sky. A matched set of Earthly beauty ideals.

_They look so perfect together_ , a mean voice inside Athos’ head told him. _Why would Ethos want a colonial mutt like me when he can have that?_ _They clearly belong together._

As if he could sense Athos’ doubts, Ethos chose that moment to look over at him while Porthos lavished his neck and clavicle with kisses. Just the eye contact was like a direct jolt to his own desire. So intense, so much lust in those pools of blue.

_I’m just a diversion,_ the mean voice continued, _A taste of the exotic. In the long run, he’ll want someone else. Once the war ends, or we get assigned to different ships._

But Ethos held his gaze, not breaking it even as Porthos worked his way down further. Kissing along ribs, stomach, and around the waistband of white uniform pants as he undid them. Ethos blew a kiss at him before moaning when Porthos began mouthing his cock where it strained at military-issue briefs.

But still, those big blue eyes bored into his own.

‘ _I love you’_

The words were clear to read on kiss-swollen lips as Ethos silently mouthed them at him, focused even while he lifted his hips so Porthos could free him of his underwear.

Athos’ heart hurt as he whispered them back, so quiet that he couldn’t even really hear himself. The beaming smile Ethos aimed at him then was enough to make the voice in his head retreat to the deep, dark crevice in the back of his brain where it lived. He’d deal with it sometime later. Right now, he was going to enjoy the sight of his navigator sucking off his boyfriend.

_Oh wow, I can’t believe they’re letting me watch this_ , said the horny voice in his head. He liked that one a lot more. _Damn, can Porthos ever suck dick like a champ!_

He watched as Ethos’ fingers grazed the shaved sides of Porthos’ scalp and dug into his mane of soft-looking white hair. The next few minutes were filled with breathy gasps turning into long groans and a variety of obscene-sounding wet noises. Porthos undid the zipper of his pants while his head bobbed up and down. He reached into the front of his underwear and took out his own cock—standing at attention like a good solider.

Even from the awkward angle he was at, slightly behind and to the side of where Porthos knelt with his back to him, he could tell the man was substantial.

_Hung like a horse,_ his mind helpfully chimed in, _Dammit, how am I supposed to look him in the eye and work side by side with him the same way now? Knowing that?_

He tried to focus on Ethos instead; the way his face scrunched up in pleasure, the little noises he was making in the back of his throat.

Porthos was focused on Ethos, too. Working his mouth up and down his length, tongue circling the tip, then swallowing him down again. The larger man hummed in pleasure as he did it.

_Shit, I really want to know what that feels like,_ thought Athos guiltily. He could never ask, though. _That would be too weird._ _We don’t have that kind of relationship._

He could watch, though, and imagine. His eyes and ears took in every detail, and he begged his brain not to fail him in remembering them later, when he was alone. When he could safely fantasize about doing things with his navigator that he’d never consciously fantasized about before.

_I hope this doesn’t make things too weird between us,_ said the logical part of his brain before the horny part tackled it and pushed to the forefront of his thoughts again.

“Where’s your lube?” asked Ethos, gently pushing at Porthos’ good shoulder to get him to let up.

The larger man reluctantly removed his lips from around Ethos’ cock and reached over to the drawers. His long arms easily reached inside the top one from where their mattress lay on the floor and retrieved a tube, which he handed over.

Ethos took a moment to kiss him—rather chastely compared to their earlier making out—as he fiddled with the lid of the tube and squeezed some of the slippery gel onto his fingers. Rubbing them against each other until they were nicely coated, the shorter navigator reached out and took Porthos’ impressive erection in hand. His surprisingly long, elegant fingers closed almost completely around it, giving one slow stroke down and then up again.

_I wonder if my hands are big enough for that_ , Athos thought before he could stop himself, _Dammit brain, you’re even worse about this now that you’ve been on all these drugs. How is that even possible?_

“Take your pants off,” Ethos requested, and Athos almost jumped to follow his order before realizing it wasn’t directed at him. He watched as Porthos stood and shucked his pants down long, thickly muscled thighs.

_Oh fuck._

It’s not like he hadn’t seen Porthos wander around their room in boxers before, fresh from a shower. He knew exactly what his navigator’s thighs looked like. But context was everything.

Stepping out of the puddle of white fabric around his feet, the taller navigator lowered himself to the mattress and lay down, propping himself up with his good forearm and spreading his legs shamelessly.

Athos was pretty certain that the hungry, awestruck look on Ethos’ face was the same one he was sporting.

_I don’t know why I expected this to go differently,_ Athos thought as he watched Ethos drizzle more lube onto his fingers and begin rubbing between the larger man’s legs. He couldn’t see exactly what Ethos’ fingers were doing, but he had a few ideas.

Whatever it was obviously felt good, given the wanton noises Porthos had started making.

It wasn’t long before Ethos glanced over at Athos again, something like an invitation in his gaze. Athos couldn’t put a finger on the strange intimacy that the action carried, while Ethos had multiple fingers inside someone else.

_Wow._

Ethos eventually broke their visual connection to look down at Porthos again. He removed his fingers and the larger man shuddered with the sudden vacancy.

“Lie down.”

Porthos complied, leaning fully onto his back and letting his good arm come around to grasp his own erection as Ethos sank into him. The shorter man paused once he was fully sheathed in the other navigator’s body; both of them settling into the sensation, silent save for their breathing.

“Please.”

Porthos sounded almost hoarse, the simple request laden with need.

Watching Ethos lay his hulking navigator down and fuck him so good that he lost his usual unflappable poise was amazing. Porthos was reduced to a moaning, twitching creature who reacted to every little thing. Hands gripping the sheets, head thrown back, panting out fast breaths. His hair was actually messed up instead of artfully arranged to _look_ like bed head. He’d completely lost the calm, detached attitude which made him seem haughty the way Phobos was, even though in reality he was much less judgmental.

Athos changed his mind. Ethos skillfully, caringly reducing his navigator to such a primal state was _more_ than just amazing.

_It’s… ridiculously hot._

He felt his dick twitch. It had been tenting the front of the sweat pants he was wearing for a while now, as he just sat there and enjoyed the show. He’d started getting hard practically the second Ethos had asked about this. And he’d definitely had a raging erection by the time the two navigators had started making out in earnest. Now it had gotten to the point of being unignorable.

He shifted slowly, careful not to brush his aching ribs. He palmed himself through the soft, worn fabric and let out a quiet moan of his own. He’d missed doing that. Stuck in med bay, loaded up on extra strength painkillers. He’d barely been lucid half the time, let alone capable of sustaining an erection. Now, though...

_Who wouldn’t get hard watching this?_

It was like a high-production porn film, just for him. Two gorgeous, young, muscled blonds going at it. He thought of different ways the scene could be advertised.

_Two college hotties explore something new for the first time!_

_Navigation Academy: After Class_

_Our Alliance_. That one would be an artsy flick that took itself way too seriously, starring aspiring actors who thought it might actually help their careers.

_Fuck or Die IV: Captured by Colterons._ _Two navigators must entertain their new insect masters or face the consequences..._ Okay, maybe not that last one. That was a little weird.

Then again, just because _he_ wouldn’t do a search for it, didn’t mean someone out there wasn’t desperate for that...

Even the way Ethos looked directly at him while ramming Porthos mimicked the way a performer might stare into the camera to make the viewer feel included in the scene.

The only thing that made it obvious that this was real life and not some fapping fantasy was the way Porthos’ injured shoulder was all too obviously causing some difficulties. It still wasn’t completely healed and the protective bandages were too bulky and covered too much of his gorgeous, wide shoulders and chest to be a prop thrown in for effect. He was also clearly favouring that side; keeping his weight off it, leaning in the opposite direction.

The occasional grimace of pain when they accidentally moved too much and jarred it. The way Ethos was being careful about his positioning, holding Porthos’ hips in place so his thrusts didn’t shift the other man too much.

“Sorry! You okay?”

Ethos’ apologies each time their efforts weren’t enough to avoid causing an instance of discomfort. The way he paused to check in and make sure Porthos wanted to continue.

“Mmmm keep going. Don’t stop… please!”

But those bits of reality made it so much hotter, as far as Athos was concerned.

The stare Porthos was now directing at him certainly helped, too. A stare that was both awkward—now that he was no longer loaded up on so many meds—and lit a fire in him. Blew on a spark he hadn’t even realized was there until so recently.

Athos carefully shoved his sweats down, erection bobbing against his stomach as he shifted to free it from the confines of his pants and take himself in hand properly. The effort had him panting. Or maybe that was just his reaction to the way Porthos licked his lips, watching Athos stroke himself.

His navigator’s gaze communicated everything. Exactly how it felt to have Ethos sliding in and out of him, how much he wanted it, how much he was enjoying being watched. Even the implication that he might want more from Athos than just an audience.

_God, I can’t wait to be healed enough to do that again._

He felt the sensation of being watched again and realized that Ethos was also staring at him, breathing harder.

“Here, let’s change positions,” said Ethos, slowly pulling out and using his hands to encourage Porthos to roll over and get on his knees.

The larger man braced against the ground with his good arm, spreading his thighs wider to bring himself down to the level of Ethos’ shorter legs so he could easily slide back into him and resume thrusting. Once they’d established a rhythm, Porthos did something Athos hadn’t expected at all.

Licking the flat of his other hand, the man reached over and swirled it, wet and warm, down the length of Athos’ dick.

“Ohhhh fuuucck!”

Porthos smirked at him. An expression Athos was used to seeing when they were joking around and his navigator had landed a particularly good jab at his expense. Not one he’d ever expected to see while Porthos had one big hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly.

Athos barely managed to recover his faculties enough to remember that they were both still healing and needed to be careful. Porthos was currently using the arm of his bad side to give him a hand job, though.

“Ahhhh, Porthos… are you sure that doesn’t hurt?”

His navigator shook his head, hair flopping around. Athos wished he could pull it.

_Where did that come from?_

He dismissed the question. It hardly mattered just then, with both other men watching him. He might have felt self conscious, but after everything that had already happened that night, he just took it in stride.

The whole situation was like something out of the threesome fantasies porn had sold him. But different in a way that seemed tangible, even though he couldn’t name it.

Porthos’ grip tightened as he came, making Athos yelp.

“Nnngh! Sorry.”

There was an intermission in the action as they all took a breather and rearranged themselves.

Ethos got onto the bunk and slid into the space between Athos and the wall, careful not to accidentally knock into him. He leaned over and placed hungry kisses all over and around Athos’ mouth, whimpering quietly.

Athos could tell from experience that his boyfriend was getting to the point of overstimulation and would want to get off pretty soon.

He moved the hand between them to wrap around Ethos’ throbbing hard on, eliciting a grateful gasp. Athos felt the tension in Ethos’ body as he held himself back from bucking up into the motion, still so careful about his injuries even half gone with lust.

Once Porthos had caught his breath, he shuffled closer to the bunk. The taller man leaned against the side of the bed, his good arm on the mattress alongside Athos’ hip for stability.

“Hey,” Porthos looked up at Athos, a question in his soft grey eyes.

_Oh. Oh!_

“Yes. Oh please yes…”

Further words would not have been possible once his navigator’s lips closed over the tip of his cock. The suction formed by his hollowed cheeks carried away Athos’ ability to speak, which was rather remarkable.

_Yup, definitely championship worthy. Gold medal. Double gold. How many medals can one win for the Sex Olympics?_

Nonsense thoughts warred with more sober realizations in his mind. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get off to military fantasy smut again after living through it himself. He could see the artifice too clearly.

He wanted what was real, now. The way the battles had actually changed them all. The fact that it wasn’t always pretty, or easy. The fact that they kept going, anyway. Kept finding comfort in each other’s bodies, even when they’d been damaged. Kept loving each other.

Or at least tried. They were all starting to flag, now. Porthos’ enthusiasm fading as post-orgasm laziness set in. The angle of Athos’ arm was too awkward for him to continue stroking Ethos, too.

“Sorry, I have to stop,” he apologized in between kisses.

“Ahhh, that’s okay,” said Ethos, pushing his fingers out of the way and starting to jerk himself off at a much faster pace. It only took a few moments before he groaned into Athos’ mouth and sank down to the bed next to him, staring up dreamily.

_Fuck, it’s hot when he comes like that._

Athos could feel himself getting so close… but he’d felt like that for what seemed like ages now. He wondered if the medication he was still on was making things more difficult than usual.

“Porthos, nnnhh… can you just focus on the tip?”

His navigator hummed in agreement and pulled partway off, remaining where he could lap at the underside of the head of Athos’ cock. Athos used his other hand to close around the base and make short strokes as quickly as was still comfortable for him.

_The MO is going to be so pissed. Not even out for two days and already resuming regular “activities”._

He felt soft, wet kisses along the side of his neck and moaned. Ethos had leaned back in to mirror the sucking sensation Porthos was lavishing on his dick.

Two mouths on him was so much more than he was used to. It was so good. He gripped himself harder, gave a few last strokes, and came.

There was a moment of lightness where the pain receded and he felt like he’d been released from his long, slow recovery. Then the sensation of a body blow from a bat or other blunt, heavy object crashed into him and all the pain came back at once, seemingly doubled. He let out a groan—as much from the ebbing pleasure as the renewed pain—and collapsed against the pillows.

Athos opened his eyes again to find Ethos propped on one elbow, staring at him with a mixture of bliss and concern. Porthos was watching him, too, from where his head rested on the narrow bunk. When their gazes locked, his navigator gave an enigmatic smile.

“Ugh, my head,” Athos whined.

“Poor thing,” said Ethos, leaning in to kiss him gently on the forehead as if that might make it better.

_It kind of does feel better_ , he thought, knowing as he did that it was ridiculous, _I’m so far gone for him._

He felt a familiar hand find his own, and tilted his head up to ask wordlessly for another kiss. Ethos obliged.

“Worth it.”

Ethos smiled down at him, an air of satisfaction to it.

Athos yawned, the pull of sleep seeming very strong again, indeed.

He wasn’t sure where the three of them would go from here, but he was full of excitement and just a hint of trepidation at the prospect of finding out.

END


End file.
